Playing the Fool
by dart53
Summary: "But the Warden wouldn't take off without us. He'll wait for us to get there…" "He's not gonna be there, Goniff. Not this time." Chief watched as Goniff's tenuous hold on confidence and hope evaporated. "Come on. Let's get out a here."
1. Chapter 1

Playing the Fool

"What d'we do now?" Goniff turned to Chief ready, as always, to let someone else take charge.

Chief didn't have any problem taking the lead, but he was pretty sure Goniff wouldn't want to follow him once he laid out his plan. "Come on. We go this way."

"That way?! That's not the way to the place where we're s'posed to meet up."

"It's too late to make that meet Goniff."

"But the Warden wouldn't take off without us. He'll wait for us to get there…"

"He's not gonna be there, Goniff. Not this time." Chief watched as Goniff's tenuous hold on confidence and hope evaporated. "Come on. Let's get out a here."

ggg

Chief and Goniff had been on watch at the perimeter of the installation that was the target of the mission. Garrison, Actor and Casino were the ones that went inside, Casino to handle the safe, Actor to provide a diversion if it was needed, and the Warden, as always, to evaluate and snatch the information they'd been sent for. Something had gone wrong though. Gunfire erupted from the building that housed their target first and then the building itself was engulfed in flames, then a few minutes later the area shook with an explosion that blew the northeast corner of the structure into rubble. The flickering glow from the blaze silhouetted the Krauts as they made their move and Chief and Goniff started picking off soldiers that were headed towards the building, all the while desperately watching for their teammates to make their way out of the fire. They stayed and watched as long as they could but there was no sign of the others and they finally had to break off when the forces inside the installation organized then split up and a contingent headed their way. They could see the man in charge wave his men into a flanking maneuver and knew if they didn't make a move soon they'd be surrounded.

The teammates made a tactical retreat, both of them firing back on their pursuers to keep them coming after them. Both of them hoping they were still providing a diversion so that the rest of the team could make their way out of the inferno that now consumed the target building. Neither of them really believing that anyone or anything could survive in that hell of fire and smoke. They kept moving until they were about a quarter mile away. There was another explosion that sent a fireball so high into the sky it seemed to claw at the base of the clouds that had gathered overhead. After that all hope for the others was lost and they just turned and ran, disappearing into the surrounding forest.

Chief kept a steady pace, turning north because the enemy rarely thought to look for them if they moved deeper into their territory. Another ninety minutes into their flight with no sign that they were being followed and he finally gave in to Goniff's pleas and started looking for a place to pull up and rest. There was a shack at the edge of a clearing. Backed into the bluff like it was they'd only have to watch one face of the building; they'd only have one direction of escape too, if it came to that, but it was the only place he could find. Goniff held back, letting Chief check the building out while he kept watch outside. The place was small; it only took a few seconds for Chief to whistle the all clear.

Goniff entered and gratefully collapsed by the front wall next to the only window in the small shelter. Chief stayed on his feet and kept watch out the partially open door. Silence gathered in the room and it was several minutes before the little cockney finally spoke.

"They're dead, aren't they?" His voice was low and quiet, like he didn't want to be overheard.

It was several seconds before the scout answered. If it had been anyone else reassuring words might have been spoken and a tale of hope might have been spun, but Chief was a realist and just said. "Yeah. Probably."

It took a good ten minutes before Goniff worked up the courage to ask another question. "We can get out of here, can't we?"

Turning away from the door Chief settled a determined look on his teammate. "We'll get out."

g

They stayed the remainder of the night there getting what rest they could while they shared lookout duty and avoided talking about the others or how they were going to get themselves back to England. But they couldn't put it off any longer when the eastern sky started changing from black to velvet blue. Chief tried to come up with a way to broach the subject but it was Goniff that got them started.

"So how are we gonna do this, eh? You can do a little Italian and some German, but I'm no bloody good at it. An' it's Warden 'n Actor always come up with new plans for gettin' us home."

"I figger we ought a head for the spot where we were s'pose to meet." He met Goniff's expectant gaze. "One a the contacts will keep checkin' back there for a while.

They all knew the back up plans and where to go if something went wrong… and everything was in sets of three. There was a set time and place to meet and if they missed the first time there'd be two others. If the underground was helping them they might check the pick-up spot for those three times. If it was just a boat sent to bring them back they'd come to the coordinates three times before they gave up. That gave the group some leeway if something went wrong and the job took longer than expected or if someone got hurt and bringing them out took longer.

The time between checks depended on how long the job was and how critical it was to get back to deliver the goods. Once time ran out on the main pick up point there was a secondary meeting point that had its own timetable. Even though there might be reasons that forced them to go straight to the secondary point the people helping them didn't start checking there until after time had run out on the primary site. Once the countdown started there they had those same three chances but if they blew those it was all over. They'd be 'missing in action' after that and no one would be looking for them.

"But it's the gettin' there's the problem." Goniff continued to study his younger teammate for a moment. "You got a plan for how we're s'pose to do that?"

Chief returned the gaze. "Maybe."


	2. Chapter 2

ggg

Chief stopped and put a hand out to hold Goniff back. He frowned and cocked his head. "D'you hear that?"

Goniff frowned and cocked his head too. He tried but he couldn't hear anything.

"Wait here."

The younger man melted into the trees. Goniff tried to follow his progress off into the darkening woods but Chief moved so silently he lost him almost as soon as he was out of sight. The little pick pocket stood there for a moment before the uncomfortable tingling along the back of his neck persuaded him to follow along after him even though he'd been told to stay where he was. He started carefully off in the direction Chief had taken. Within a few moments he wasn't so sure following had been such a good idea. Every tree looked like every other tree to him and he wasn't quite sure which way was _back the way he'd come_.

The woods had gone silent. The birds and scurrying sounds he didn't even realize were keeping them company on their trek were gone. Goniff stopped and stood perfectly still… and then he heard it… a rhythmic scraping sort of noise. Figuring that was the sound Chief had heard in the first place he let it guide him in hopes of finding the group's scout. In a minute or two he could see the trees start to thin out and a little further on the vague outline of a building. Before he could blunder out of cover Chief had him by the wrist and was pulling him down into the low growth at the base of a tree.

"I thought I told you to stay put." He whispered quietly in the pick pocket's ear then Chief turned back and continued to study the scene before them.

There was a clearing of sorts and a little stone church stood back in the shadow of the trees that hung down over it. The stones of the building were covered with moss and patches of lichen that looked like mold. The trees around the clearing were bare of their leaves but long strings of graying moss hung in wisps from the branches. The area in front of the church had been taken up over the years by the graveyard. Stones that had once stood gleaming white, erect and proud, had leaned now with time and the seasonal heaving of the earth and were covered with the same moss and lichen that decorated the building. Cobblestones in the pathways were loose and the weeds had taken over the graveyard and grew up tall through the dead leaves that lay in drifts along the foundation of the church. The windows were cracked and dirty and the door hung a little askew on its rusty hinges.

The sound that had caught their attention was coming from a man digging in the graveyard. It was obvious from the shape and depth of the excavation what he was up to just as it was obvious from the sweat and grime on what they could see of his face that he'd been at it for some time. He was working alone. Sometimes war brought people together. Here it looked like the despair of it had driven them apart, driven them away from their church and their religion.

When the gravedigger finished he took a moment to massage the muscles in his lower back before he tossed the shovel onto the ground at the edge of the grave and then climbed out after it. He bent to retrieve his pick and used it as a staff as he moved off out of sight around the back of the church. The spade still lay on the displaced earth next to the grave.

Within moments the squeaking of old metal wheels split the silence. The man pushed a long cart laden with a simple wooden casket up next to the grave. He dusted his hands on his work pants, wincing and taking a moment to inspect his blisters before he turned and walked up the path and disappeared into the church.

They should have moved off and gone on their way but both men were caught up in the little drama playing out in front of them.

After a few moments the church door groaned open and the man stepped out again. Instead of the worn work clothes he was arrayed in a long wool cassock. Years had worn the black garment down to a soft dark gray. The ankle length robe was topped with a surplice aged from crisp whiteness into a softer golden hue. His face was still pink from the scrubbing he'd given it, and hands that had so recently held a shovel now reverently cradled a bible.

Walking up to the head of the newly excavated grave the priest kissed his bible and stood with his head bowed a moment, then, out of habit, he opened the book but he looked up into the gray skies overhead and spoke from memory. After the short solitary service he again bowed his head a moment in silent prayer before returning to the church. When he stepped out he was, once again, arrayed in his work clothes.

He walked back down to stand next to the coffin on the cart. After a few moments considering it he moved to one end of the box and hauled at the strap cinched around it. It was a struggle, the occupant of the box must have been a big man. When he hoisted it towards the grave the other end of the casket pivoted away from the excavation. Switching ends he performed the same action, with the same result. He tried standing alongside and shoving the box towards its final resting place but the contents were too heavy…

Chief reached out to put his hand on Goniff's arm. It wouldn't be a problem for him to disappear now back into the underbrush and go on his way but he knew the little pick pocket. Just like Goniff picked up shinny objects on the job without really knowing he was doing it, he would reach out and try and help someone without realizing that it might put them at risk until he'd already done it. But the scout's cautious nature couldn't beat the little cockney's natural instincts and Goniff had already straightened up, revealing himself to the man standing next to the newly dug grave.

Goniff went across the clearing with a smile on his face and a light step, almost skipping. They'd discussed it already; they were going to stay out of sight as much as they could but if they were seen he was to play the fool and Chief was to take the part of the one with some sense but unable to hear or speak. Chief could understand more than Goniff could and they hoped that he would be able to pick up on a person's intensions by how they reacted and what they said to Goniff's clowning.

Goniff had taken their safety into his own hands by showing himself but he couldn't just let the poor priest struggle on his own…something that surprised him, considering. When he reached the graveside, he pounded the top of the coffin like a drum and then mimicked the priest's previous efforts by trying to lift the end of the box by its strap. The priest quickly took advantage of the help and curled his fingers around the strap on the other end of the coffin only to be moved out of the way by Chief who had silently followed his teammate when he realized there was no hope of holding him back.

The two lifted the box down onto the ground next to the newly dug grave and then Chief clapped his hands to get Goniff's attention before he bent to pick up the straps that lay on the ground under the coffin. Goniff laughed and clapped too and gave a little skip and watched intently as Chief dropped the straps and picked them up again and lifted his end of the box. Then he gave another laugh and bent to do the same, when he had his end off the ground he started the coffin swinging towards the grave. Chief went with the momentum and Goniff followed. When the box was centered over the pit the scout let the strap run out slowly through his fingers. The priest, who was concerning himself with grateful prayer, missed Goniff's care in matching his teammate's speed.

When the coffin was safely on the bottom of the grave Chief walked to the side and pulled the straps out before taking the shovel away from the priest who had just picked it up and had started to fill in the hole. In response to the man's protest he tapped his lips and then his ear and shook his head. Leaving the priest to work that out he turned and started to shovel dirt into the newly made grave.

Goniff turned his back on the pit and bent over and started throwing dirt between his legs down into the grave. It wasn't long before the mound was made over the coffin and the simple wooden cross the priest had constructed was being tamped in place. The priest stood at the end of the new grave and bowed his head; Chief took his own cap off and then reached up and took Goniff's off and handed it to him. They stood in silence as the man finished the last of his prayers.

When the priest looked up again and started to talk even Goniff could tell he was thanking them for what they'd just done. He took each one of them and kissed them on both cheeks and then stepped between them and put an arm over their shoulders and urged them towards the little building behind the church. It was cold, it was getting dark, they were both tired, and now they were covered in grime and sweat…they went with him.

g

There wasn't much when they got inside. A cot was in the corner with a cross on the wall above it. The stand next to the simple bed held a small glass pitcher filled with water and a glass. There was a cupboard along one wall and a wood-burning stove sat next to it, a window was cut high on the wall over the stove. A roughly made wooden table with two chairs was on the wall opposite the stove, a window cut high into the wall over it as well. The table had been shoved back against the wall and the priest's few books stood along that edge and an oil-burning lamp rested in the center. Hooks on the wall next to the door held his clothes.

They were ushered across the room and the chairs were pulled out with ceremony. When they were seated the priest turned to the cupboard and opened the door, like the room, there wasn't much there. He selected a pot and two paper-wrapped packages. Leaving the packages near the stove he turned on them and gestured that they should stay where they were and then left the room.

Goniff looked around the man's quarters. "Ain't got much, 'as he?" he said quietly.

"Ain't suppose to have much." Chief answered as he got up to go investigate the small pantry.

With the two packages the priest had already removed he only found two small tins inside, one held a bit of salt, the other some pepper. There was a cup with a handful of stems in it on the counter, the leaves dried to a dull gray-green. He took one and pinched it between his thumb and forefinger. The tiny crushed leaf released an enticing aroma that he'd smelled in their kitchen when Winnie cooked… thyme he thought she'd called it. The hollow sound of a foot on the wooden step outside sent him back to the table where the priest found them waiting expectantly when he opened the door again.

The priest struck up a fire in the wood waiting and placed the pot on the stove and then turned his attention to the packages resting nearby. The first one he opened held a lump of dried meat. He took a knife out of the drawer in the cupboard and cut off a small piece. Casting a quick look over his shoulder at them he made another cut leaving just a sliver of meat that he carefully wrapped and returned to its shelf. Holding the knife firmly in his hand he used the butt of it to pound the dried meat into powder. Carefully sweeping every bit of the powder into his hand he added it to the water that was just beginning to steam. He took the tins out and added a pinch from each and then crumbled a few of the dried leaves in before he stirred the mixture with the blade of his knife.

A surprisingly appealing odor wafted across the room to them... but they were hungry and anything would have smelled good to them.

The priest watched the pot carefully and as soon as it came up to the boil he took it off the fire. While the mixture steeped he turned his attention to the second package. Half a loaf of bread rested within the waxed paper. He sliced it all. Cubing up the driest slice he added it to the pot. He used the waxed paper as a tray and placed the offering on the table between his two guests.

When Goniff reached a grubby hand out for a morsel of broken bread Chief slapped it for him and shook his head dramatically, causing the priest to laugh. Chief made a scrubbing motion on his face and pointed over at the small pitcher. The priest smiled and nodded but gestured them to follow him. He led them out to the rain barrel that sat at the corner of the building. There was a sliver of soap on the cover and a ladle and bowl, a towel and a piece of mirror hung on nails above it. Chief ladled a measure of cold water over Goniff's hands and into the bowl. The little burglar squealed and shook all over to entertain their host. The priest laughed and shook his head as he turned to go back inside. The two men did their washing up in silence before following him.

They found the priest, again arrayed in his robes, standing at the table waiting for them. The steaming pot sat in front of one chair and a bowl opposite it in front of the other, there was a mug setting on the table near the priest's hand. Goniff grinned foolishly at the man and let Chief give him a little shove to get him started across the room. They stood near their chairs as the priest bowed his head and said his blessing over the simple meal. Lifting the mug off the table and taking a crust of bread he motioned them to sit and begin eating. Chief shoved the larger portion in the pot in front of Goniff and took the bowl for himself.

The priest retired to the cot where he sat and sipped at his mug while he watched them eat. After a few moments he began to speak and while they couldn't understand him they knew he was thanking them again for helping him. Chief studiously avoided reacting to the man's words as he spooned the broth into his mouth and then followed it with a bite of bread. As the man continued to talk he could pick out a word here and there and he knew the priest was talking about God and the Germans. Then the voice turned a bit wistful and he heard the word for mother and father and then children before the man stopped with a sigh to finish off his broth.

Chief rose from the table with his bowl. He lifted the pot away from Goniff who whined his objection, but gave him a secret wink, and he walked across the room and shared a portion out of each into the empty mug. Turning his back on the protests he gave Goniff back his pot and settled down in the chair to mop out the broth left in the bottom of his bowl with the last of his bread.

When they were finished Chief took the few things to the counter. He went outside and filled the pot with water from the barrel and sat it on the stove to heat. After eating the priest lifted his bible off the stand next to the bed and opened it. When Goniff saw that he continued to play his fool by leaving the table and dropping onto the floor in front of the man. He crossed his legs and rested his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands and looked up expectantly. The priest smiled and turned the pages from his evening devotional to the beginning of the book and he started to read. He had a kind voice and even though Goniff couldn't understand the words, he knew the story from childhood. _In the beginning_ …..

Chief knew the stories too, from the school where they'd sent him when they took him away from his Grandfather. He listened as he washed and dried their few dishes, but not with the same pleasure.

g

After the reading was through the priest would have given them his bed if Chief hadn't declined the invitation with a firm shake of his head. He caught a grinning Goniff by the arm and towed him out the door and onto the wooden porch. There were out buildings behind the church and the priest's small quarters and he meant to stay the night out there so they could leave early in the morning before the priest woke up. They crossed the yard and were just opening the door to what looked like an cow shed when the priest caught up with them. He had a pitcher of water in one hand and a couple of blankets in the other. One was folded but the other was obviously off his own bed.

The little building had a smell of dust and disuse but there was still enough old dry hay left to scoop into piles that would keep them off the hard, cold ground. When the beds were made and the blankets folded in two and laid over the top of the hay the priest sat the pitcher down between them along with two mugs he produced from his pockets. He caught each man by a hand and brought them to stand in front of him. Reaching out he placed a hand on each of their heads and said a blessing over them before he smiled and left them to their rest.

Chief opened the door a crack and took up watch. Goniff poked at the beds and tried one out. At the grumble of his half empty stomach he rolled onto his knees between the pallets and poured a mug full of water…there wasn't anything else to fill up on.

As soon as he'd drunk his fill he called across to the scout. 'You want I should take first watch?'

But Chief was already in place and as soon as he shook his head Goniff slipped under the top layer of blanket. Before he could count to five he was fast asleep. Chief studied the back of the church. The light had been doused almost as soon as the priest walked in the back door of his rooms. He knew if the man was keeping the hours of prayer he would probably rise through the night. When he heard Goniff's rhythmic breathing and gentle snore the scout slipped out into the twilight. While Goniff slept he set traps in the woods surrounding the church.

Goniff took the watch as soon as Chief touched him on the shoulder. The younger man filled his own stomach with water and then rolled himself in the blanket the priest provided for him and dropped off to sleep almost immediately. Goniff didn't have to wake him three hours later, he rolled out on his own and took up the position at the door again while the cat burglar went back to sleep. He watched as the dim light kindled and saw the priest walk silently around and enter the church and then he waited for the bobbing glow to fade away as the man made his way to the alter. The priest returned to his bed about half an hour later. Chief waited for about fifteen minutes after the windows in the side of the building facing the barn went black before he slipped out into the gray of early dawn.

Chief shook Goniff awake before first light. They finished the water in the pitcher, folded their blankets and left them on the porch near the back door of the church. Chief hung a line with the five rabbits he'd caught near the rain barrel before they quietly slipped away into the forrest.

"Shame we couldn't a stayed for a bite a breakfast." Goniff complained.

"We need to get out a here and we can find something as we walk." Chief assured his perpetually hungry teammate. "Sides, that guy needs the food more 'n we do."


	3. Chapter 3

g

Usually getting something to eat wasn't much of a problem. Goniff was extremely adept at pilfering from food stalls if they were in a town and if they were in the country they could generally just 'liberate' what they needed as they moved through an area and they'd use that to supplement anything Chief was able to hunt. This was different. The district they were in had been hit hard by the Allies, 'saturation bombing' they called it. Devastation is what it looked like. The homes were damaged, the fields destroyed, the businesses shut. The little that had survived the bombings had been appropriated by the Germans. No one had enough, and it showed. The few people they'd been unable to avoid were too thin. They were wary of strangers, unwilling to smile or even make eye contact for fear they might be asked to share what little they had.

Chief showed Goniff what to look for and they'd been foraging alongside the path and in the meadows. There were things even the locals didn't realize were edible. And even if it wasn't too appetizing it would fill an empty belly. Some of the stuff could be eaten raw and they'd been nibbling at it but the bulk of the items needed to be boiled or roasted. When they found a clearing near a stream late in the afternoon they stopped and built a small fire and settled in to prepare their meager meal.

They spotted the little girl as they were making the fire. Just a bit of a skirt and a dirty bare foot disappearing around the trunk of a tree. They knew she was still hiding there because there was an open area between her tree and the next bit of cover and she hadn't crossed it. Chief's sharp ears picked out more, four or five he thought, hiding in the brush to the north.

Chief built up the fire and then collected stones which he carefully rested in the flames to heat. He cut and split a green branch from one of the trees growing near the water and fashioned a set of wooden tongs. Cutting another branch, he trimmed it into a 'Y' and then found tough green reeds to weave across the two short forks. Bringing a heavy hooked stick back with him he started to dig out a hole in the firm dirt between the stream and the fire with it.

Chief sent Goniff off to look for the largest greenest leaves he could find while he gathered moss off the trees at the edge of the clearing. After he sorted through Goniff's pile for the leaves he wanted they combined them with the mosses to line the bottom of the hole he'd dug out. He set back on his heels and watched as water seeped in, filtered up through the moss and filled the depression.

When the hole was filled with water they layered in their collection of roots and stems and tender leaves. Chief capped that off with another layer of moss and large leaves before he carefully transferred the first set of heated rocks into the water with the tongs. While they heated the water, he rolled more stones into the fire. He scooped the spent stones out of the 'pot' with the forked stick, settled them in the flames with a steaming hiss, and transferred another set of heating rocks into the water. After he learned the technique Goniff was set the task of bringing the water to the boil and Chief took a decaying branch he'd found to the water's edge a few steps away from their 'kitchen' to see if he could lure some fish in with the grubs eating their way through the wood.

Goniff licked his lips in anticipation and divided his attention between the vegetation stewing in the steaming water and his teammate's attempts at catching fish by hand. With the girl hiding behind the tree and her friends off in the bushes he couldn't risk shouting out encouragement but he could laugh and clap like the fool he was playing when the scout's quick hands dipped in and flipped a fish out onto the bank.

Chief dashed the fish's head against a rock and then gutted it. He chopped the entrails on a flat stone and used them to bait the victim's relatives in close where he could catch them too. Within ten minutes or so he had four fish for their meal. The rustling in the bushes had stopped but he knew he was still being watched.

Returning to the fire he tested the items in the water with the tip of his blade and judged that they were near enough done that he could make better use of the rocks heating in the fire. He moved them to the other side of the coals and dusted them clean with a branch full of green leaves. When he laid the fish out on top of the hot rocks they made a satisfying sizzle. Soon the aroma of seared fish flesh was added to the smell of boiled greens.

g

They caught sight of the little girl peeping around the tree at them but when Goniff smiled and waved to her she disappeared again. The two men ate silently and continued to watch the tree. After several minutes they were rewarded by the sight of the small bare foot as the little girl edged around the trunk. She took her time but was soon leaning against the tree staring at them. There were several uncomfortable rustles in the brush behind her. Goniff smiled again and lifting what was left of the fish he'd been eating he beckoned to her to come and join them. She started away from the tree towards them but a hiss from the underbrush caused a quick retreat back into hiding. She might have been out of sight but she wasn't out of 'ear-shot'. They could hear her sniffling … and there was a brief whining complaint from the underbrush before it was soundly 'shushed'.

Goniff sighed and picked at what was left of the fish he'd been eating. Chief finished the one he had in his hand but rather than pick out another he got up and went back over to the stream and retrieved the little grub-filled log. He managed to catch four more fish without too much trouble. Goniff fell in with what the younger man was up to and rolled the rocks back into the coals to heat them up again.

Chief gutted and cooked the fish as he had done with the first four. He and Goniff collected more moss off the nearby trees and made a thick bed of it near the fire. They fished the greens out of their ground pot and laid them out and then piled the six cooked fish up next to the greens before dusting off their hands and walking up into the trees to the south of the little clearing. When they were out of view they turned and waited to see what would happen.

It was the little girl who made the first move. She dashed out from behind her tree and ran to the bed of moss laden with fish. Snatching one up she raced for the brush that was hiding her fellows. After an excited bit of babble six skinny little urchins crept out of cover and cautiously made their way to the fire. At first they caste furtive glances towards the place where they'd seen the two strangers disappear but once they'd sampled the fish and then the offerings of greens they gave themselves over to enjoying their bountiful feast.

When he was finished with his portion of the banquet and his fingers were sucked clean the oldest boy in the group investigated the tools Chief had made. It took him a try or two before he successfully picked up a stone with the tongs and dropped it into the cooling water. After accepting the accolades of his friends, he wandered over to the streamside and picked up the piece of wood Chief had pried the grubs from. Pricking a fat white grub out with a dried twig he let it wriggle on his palm a moment before he tossed it, experimentally, into the water lapping at his toes. The surface of the stream roiled with fish fighting over the prize. Expecting instant success the boy made a lunge for them but ended up face first in the stream with nothing in his hands but water.

For a moment the little fisherman sat scowling down into the water flowing around him as the laughter and chatter of his friends died away. When he got up he marched straight up the bank for the grub filled log. He pricked several of the insects out with his twig and filled his pockets and then walked back into the water. Leaning out over the water he dropped a wriggling grub in and waited. After a moment he lowered in another and kept his hands in the water. After several more anxious seconds there was a flurry of splashing and the youngster was, again, sitting in the stream. But this time he held a thrashing fish tightly to his chest.

Chief tapped Goniff on the arm with the back of his hand. They shared a grin and then turned and quietly went on their way.

g

It wasn't quite raining when they finally found shelter in a collection of large rocks at the base of a cliff. They'd left the stream behind and, with it, the meager selection of wild foods Chief had been able to forage earlier in the day. Chief dealt with hunger by not thinking about it, Goniff took the opposite approach. He wistfully discussed what they might find in the cupboards of the mansion if they were back in England and he pondered what Winnie might fix them if they were home. He kept it up until Chief finally reminded him they'd probably be sent straight back to prison if they ever managed to make their way back across the channel to England. Prison might mean regular meals, but they wouldn't be anything to talk about.


	4. Chapter 4

g

The two men spent another quiet hungry day working their way west. Chief's sharp hearing let them blend back into the trees before anyone could catch sight of them. They'd gotten lucky with the priest and the children weren't any threat but neither man was willing to risk any contact with the locals. Even if they had once been friendly to the Allies with the devastation caused by the bombing they figured the people would probably turn them away if they didn't call the Germans down on them.

"Blimey!. Looks like the bombers hit this place pretty hard." Goniff observed quietly as he skirted a crater that had already gathered a bed of soft dust and dead leaves.

"Shhh!" Chief admonish him. They hadn't seen anyone for hours but that didn't mean someone wasn't out there watching and listening… But he knew the lack of conversation was beginning to wear on the little Brit.

Goniff sighed and rolled his eyes. It wasn't in his nature to stay quiet, and there was no one to hear them anyway. He didn't press the point with Chief but, taking up the character he'd been playing, laughing up at the sunshine that was dappling down through the ruined trees he skipped ahead to burn off some of his nervous energy. He got out in front by a few yards and went around a bend on the path they'd been following and stopped dead in his tracks to look at what was left of an old farmhouse.

Chief moved up by Goniff's side and surveyed the wreckage. "Looks like the yard took a direct hit," he leaned in and said just above a whisper.

The second story man jumped a little in surprise and turned a quick look on his teammate. Chief gave him a half smile before turning to study the surrounding area. Goniff leaned in close and spoke as quietly as the Indian had. "Back corner a the place is still standin'." His stomach growled. Their route had taken them away from the stream, their feast of fish the day before was just a distant memory. Since then they'd found some measly greens they'd been nibbling on and, well, you could eat them but they weren't very filling... "You s'pose that was the kitchen part?" Goniff asked hopefully.

Chief gave another quick grin. "Maybe," he said. "You stay here out of sight and cover me while I check the place out and then we'll go in and find out."

Moving quietly and staying out in the cover of the brush Chief made a complete circuit of the derelict building. He tightened his circle and went around again, and then again, a little closer before he returned to stand beside Goniff. "Looks alright but keep an eye out. Might be someone hidin' inside."

Goniff nodded and kept his hand curled around the grip of the pistol hidden in his pocket as he followed the younger man up the path towards the house. They spread out a little once they made it through the broken fence that surrounded the place. Chief set his foot carefully on the splintered boards that made up the porch that clung to the side of the house but the wood still squeaked and groaned under his weight. They froze as they waited to see if the noise would draw any danger down on them but the only thing they heard was the gradual return of the hum of insects in the desiccated garden.

Chief took another step and reached out for the knob that dangled from the door but his hand stopped short at the sound of a low menacing growl. He glanced to either side to make sure the animal wasn't out in the overgrowth but saw nothing.

Goniff leaned closer and asked. "Blimey, is it inside there?"

"Sounds like it," the group's point man said as he flicked the knob with a finger. The volume and pitch of the growl increased. "Don't think it's as big as it's puttin' on."

Chief took the knob in his hand and turned it slowly. The effect on the growling on the other side of the door was like turning up the volume on an old radio. Goniff took a nervous step back into the yard and Chief moved off to the side of the door before shoving it open.

There was high pitched yipe and a scratching scramble of toenails as the owner of the growl avoided the door swinging in towards it. The animal ran for cover under the broken table that sat just inside. It whined once and then fell silent but kept a wary eye on Goniff as he slowly mounted the porch steps to confer with Chief.

"Not much of a dog, is it?" Goniff observed when Chief came to stand next to him.

"Nope."

The dog looked like it should have weighed in at about twenty-five pounds, if it had been getting food on a regular basis. It was mostly bones covered by dusty black and white hair right now. There might have been some sort of collie or sheep dog in it somewhere because the hair gathered in a ruff around its neck, the ears stood upright with just the tips falling forward, and the tail, what could be seen of it, wanted to be bushy. In better days the brown eyes would have snapped with good-humored intelligence but now they were white rimmed with fear and distrust.

Chief took a step towards the door and the animal started its growling again as it slowly rose up on stiffened legs. The beast's tail moved from one side to the other and back again in a tentative wag. Chief took another step forward. The tail moved again and kept waving but the growling continued, the hair stood up along its spine and the dog's lips pulled back to reveal teeth.

"Which end d' ya believe?" Goniff asked from the edge of the porch.

At the scout's next step the dog hurled itself at the door with a snarling roar of a bark. The animal slid to a stop on the threshold where it kept teeth bared in warning and a low rumble going in its chest. If Chief or Goniff moved the dog would snarl and snap, it would even stand up on its hind legs, but it wouldn't step foot out of the confines of what was left of the house.

Goniff craned his neck and peered inside. He nudged Chief with his elbow and pointed. "Wall's blown in over there. Maybe we can get in that way?"

"Maybe" the younger man agreed without much enthusiasm. "I'll keep it busy here and you just go on around there and give it a try." Chief eyed the dog and then turned a half smile on his hungry teammate. "And, Goniff, if you'r smart, y' believe the end with the teeth."

Goniff shot a look along his shoulder at his teammate and then switched his attention to the dog still grumbling in the doorway. He cleared his throat and was about to withdraw his suggestion when his stomach let out a loud grumble of its own. The hackles on the dog's neck lifted and he raised his nose to sniff for the new adversary. Goniff rubbed at his empty belly and then rolled his eyes as he started for the corner of the house.

Chief shifted his weight back and forth to keep the boards under his feet creaking and the dog's attention focused on him. It didn't work. As soon as Goniff showed himself in the opening of the ruined wall the animal leapt off that direction snapping and snarling. Goniff stumbled as he backed out of range and he ended up landing on his backsides in the dust. He crabbed backwards and put his arms up to fend off the attack… but it never came. The dog was still barking and baring his teeth but, just as he'd done at the door, he'd stopped at the edge of the floor and wouldn't make the leap off into the yard.

They tried. For almost an hour. Anywhere the walls of the building offered a hope of getting through to the inside. Wherever they tried to get in they were met by a snarling bag of bones and hair. If they coordinated their attempt the dog would rush at one and then tear through the ruins to accost the other and then make the trip back again to the first. Eventually the knife slipped into Chief's palm and he thumbed it open. Goniff gave him a pained look.

"S' the only way."

The little burglar's head tipped off to the side and he studied the little dog, sides heaving, tongue lolling out, still growling and protecting what was left of his own.

Chief waited on his partner's decision. He already knew what it was going to be. "You callin' it quits?" he called through the building as he folded his knife away.

Goniff rubbed at his stomach again but after a moment he turned and started walking out of the yard. When the group's point man caught up with him he asked, "Think you can find us a rabbit or some such?"

At that instant Chief swiveled into a crouch and the knife flew from his hand. He kept the position for a moment as they both listened to the last of his target's death throes. Walking back towards the house he leaned down and retrieved the blade, pulling it free and wiping it on the side of his leg before returning it to the harness he wore.

He held the body up by the tail for Goniff to see before flinging the rat through the door of the farmhouse to the starving dog inside.


	5. Chapter 5

g

Things were definitely getting worse. When they left the priest they had the stream and the meadows where they could at least try and find some food. After leaving their feast to the urchins near the stream there was a little grain left in the fields around the old farmhouse. But the route they had to take now left the stream behind and the fields and meadows they were moving through now had been blasted to bits. Farmhouses, if they found them, were nothing but rubble.

The birds and animals were long gone so there was no reason for Chief to even try and hunt. The people, the ones that were left, had so little they'd scalped every morsel of edible material off the trees and out of the fields around what was left of their homes. They'd even passed a place where it looked like a woman was trying to make a soup out of dried grasses. Goniff was so hungry his stomach had stopped grumbling and he'd given up complaining about it.

Chief stepped off the stock trail they'd been following and headed off into the trees. Goniff dawdled and capered behind but kept him in view. When they were out of sight of the trail he jogged up beside him and leaned in close to ask, "Where we goin'?"

The scout kept his head down as if he hadn't heard just in case there was anyone around to see but answered. "Maybe if we get further away from where people are there'll still be somethin' left."

Goniff's stomach gave a hopeful groan that caused him to laugh.

In about twenty minutes they were standing at the base of a hillside. Looking up it appeared that the hills had escaped the pounding the flatlands had taken. They followed the path and in about half an hour were walking through a section of intact forest. Breezes blowing through were cooled by the shade of the trees and carried bird song, the first they'd heard all that day.

Chief scanned the trees for a moment and then smiled. He headed for the one that had caught his eye and spent a moment or two fruitlessly searching the ground around its base. When Goniff arrived he motioned for him to give him a boost up into the branches. Once he caught hold and was moving up into the tree Goniff stepped back so he could study the tree.

Even after squinting his eyes in concentration he couldn't figure out what had caught the younger man's interest. At that moment there was a dull 'plop' next to his foot and he watched a pinecone the size of his fist bounce off into the duff around the tree. Another, and then another, hit the ground near him. Goniff got the idea and started collecting them up in the shirttail he pulled free. When he was beginning to have trouble keeping the cones confined inside his makeshift apron the rain of cones stopped and Chief started climbing down out of the branches.

Goniff turned to survey the area. He spotted a grouping of boulders that looked a little like a table and stools and headed for it. He didn't know exactly what he was carrying but he knew it was going to turn out to be edible…once Chiefy got down out of the tree and showed him the secret. Just as he reached the rocks there was a cracking of wood followed by a sickening thump. The cones went flying as he turned back and made a run for the tree.

g

Chief was on his side when he got there. His right arm was sort of crumpled up under him and his legs were in a tangle. As much as he wanted to reach out and help right away Goniff held back. It didn't do to touch Chiefy if he didn't know you were going to do it. He watched as the frown that had come to the younger man's face deepened before he opened his eyes and looked around. It wasn't until his gaze settled on Goniff that the pick pocket reached out.

"ere I am, mate. Is it okay if I help you? Y' think you can sit up?"

Chief pushed at the ground with his left hand and rolled onto his back as Goniff carefully untangled and straightened his legs. He lay there a moment taking stock of himself.

"Anything busted?" the cockney asked quietly as he reached out to take the hand the group's scout held out to him.

The younger man grimaced as he pulled up to sit in the duff at the base of the tree. He experimented by moving all of his joints to find the worst of it. "Hand, maybe,' he admitted.

Chief made an attempt at getting on his feet and Goniff scrambled up to carefully provide support. His first step sent a searing pain up his left thigh. If his teammate hadn't been there he'd have found himself flat on his back in the dirt again. Goniff slipped under his good arm and helped him limp towards the boulders. When they got there the little man hovered as Chief lowered himself carefully onto one of the large rocks.

"Where 'r the cones?"

"Huh?"

"The cones? You'r still hungry, aren't you?" Chief asked to distract the other man. When Goniff turned away to start his search Chief probed his knee and hip with his fingers. It was when he pressed in on the large muscle at the top of his leg he felt the most discomfort. His right hand was already swollen and starting to discolor. He could move the fingers a little but shifting the hand brought a sharp pain that darted through his wrist.

"What's the damages?" Goniff asked as he unloaded an armful of pinecones on the top of the center stone.

"Think the wrist is busted." He thumbed the blade open with his left hand and pinned a cone down with his right arm and tried to pry back one of the scales to get to the nut inside. He didn't have a good grip and he had no leverage. The cone popped out from under his arm and landed on the ground at their feet. The jolt made him catch his breath.

Goniff bent down and scooped up the pinecone and then reached out for the blade. After a couple of attempts he got the tip of the knife blade in place and twisted. The scale cracked off the cone and revealed a small plump seed. He grinned across at the scout for a moment before sobering. "What about the leg?"

"Just a pulled muscle." More likely the muscle was torn, but pulled sounded better, even to him. Chief rolled the pine nut over the rough surface of the stone and then between his fingers to get rid of the hull. He held the creamy white seed out for Goniff and watched as the other man popped it in his mouth and bit down. "I'll be alright."

Goniff nodded and bent to the task of prying all the nuts out of the cone. He placed them within Chief's reach so the scout could attend to the hull, but when the second seed was dropped on the stone in front of him, like the first, he picked it up and put it back in front of the other man. From then on they were shared out equal.

While he worked Goniff tried to puzzle out what they were going to do, since it looked like he might be in charge of doing it. Chief's broken hand meant they were without their best defense. He still had his pistol tucked away in a pocket, but they couldn't use it, unless there was no other way out, because of the attention the sound of the shot would bring. And if he had to take that shot, Chief's hurt leg wouldn't let him run to get away. That leg was going to slow them down too, they'd never get to either one of the pick-up points now. Not while they had a chance the underground contact was still checking them for someone to show up anyway.

"Look, Goniff…" Chief started off quietly.

Goniff continued to concentrate on his task, kept working on the next cone, and just shook his head. "Don't want t' hear none of it."

"But-"

"Blimey! _But_ , nothin'!" Goniff put the cone and the knife down and stared across at his teammate. "I ain't leavin' you on your own." And he looked off into the trees for a moment before he shrugged his shoulders and continued. "'Sides, I'd never find that place alone, and I'd 'ave even less luck findin' my way back here to pick you up again, and we both know it." It'd be different if they were the ones had the stuff they'd been sent after he thought. They all knew how important their jobs were now, and they were learning all about duty and stuff. It was hard not to learn about all a that when the Warden was the teacher. The Warden...he was gone now, and there was no way Goniff was going to let him and Chiefy be split up. He settled what he hoped was a determined look on his face before he shifted his gaze back on the younger man. "So, now, what 'd we do?"

Chief kept his right arm bent, and he held his hand up so it wouldn't touch anything. He rubbed absently at his left thigh and let his gaze wander over their surroundings. It was quiet here. Goniff could probably monkey up that tree and knock down enough cones to take the edge off their hunger. They might last on that a couple a days. But there was no water. And there was no shelter. Not that he could see from where he was sitting anyway. And the area around that tree had been picked clean. Even the lower branches had been stripped of cones. Someone was coming up here, and there was no way to know if they were friendly or not. They had to keep going. He started working at the buttons that held his jacket closed. "Help me."

"What 'r you up to, then?"

"We need to get back on the road and the leg needs wrapping."

Goniff quickly shrugged out of his own jacket and started stripping out of his shirt.

"Goniff!" Chief protested, "you'll freeze without that shirt!"

"Yeah? And you'r gonna go into that shock thingy without yours." He snatched up the knife again and thumbed the blade open and slit the garment up the back. "So don't argue," he said defiantly as he made another cut.

When the shirt he'd been wearing had been cut into as many strips as he could get out of it Goniff tossed the pile in front of Chief and walked away into the trees, keeping the Indian's blade. He didn't go far enough that he couldn't see Chiefy sitting on his rock, but his search kept him out there for fifteen minutes or so. When he got back the group's scout had a neat firm bandage woven around his upper leg. All it needed was tying off. He hadn't managed to wrap up the injured hand, even though the pale skin and sweat advertised that he'd been trying.

Goniff dropped a few long sticks next to the rocks and unloaded his arms onto the top of the middle one. "Here, let's see what we can make a this stuff."

Chief reached out and sorted through a variety of moss and downy plant fibers. He picked up a length of supple bark Goniff had peeled from a tree and then turned a half smile on the little Brit. "You been readin' one a them books?" He asked.

Goniff grinned back at him as he started to cut the bark into the right shape to go around Chief's injured hand. "Nah! Just watchin' you an' Actor, mate." But the twinkle in his eye died quickly when he realized, again, that Actor was dead, and they probably weren't going to make it back now, no matter how much they told each other they were.


	6. Chapter 6

They managed to form a brace for Chief's injured hand out of the bark and soft moss Goniff found. One of the stout sticks he'd brought back had a set of three branches that jutted out from one end. After Goniff whittled around and carved on it for a while, and then knocked a little length off, it left it so Chief could hold one branch with his left hand and lean his elbow into the crotch of the other two to take the weight off his leg. Over his teammates objections Goniff gave up his socks to wrap around that crotch as padding for the younger man's elbow.

Once the first-aiding was done they picked their direction and got back on their way. But even with Goniff helping Chief along it was slow going. Going overland was out of the question now and they'd have to run the risk of getting back on an establish path or road.

They'd managed to get down out of the hills and followed a footpath until it finally crossed a road. After a few moments of uncertainty the scout had decided on a direction and they'd started off. But there'd been some showers and in addition to chilling them down the rain made the surface of the dirt road treacherous for Chief, but the rain slick grass along the verge was impossible so they kept to the road.

g

"C'mon, you can do it!" Goniff encouraged Chief's waning efforts. He ignored the other man's scowl as he stepped in close and slipped an arm around his back to help steady him and give him a bit of support.

"What a you think you'r doin'?" Chief stiffened and snapped out.

Goniff ignored the tone. "Stayin' warm," he answered and gave a little shiver to ease his teammates embarrassment.

Some of the tension went out of the young man. He shook his head. "Told ya, you were gonna freeze without that shirt."

"Yeah," Goniff agreed. They'd been struggling along for a couple of hours now and after they'd trudged along for a few more minutes, slipping and sliding in the mud, he asked. "'Member how you dreamed up that barn catchin' fire when Actor got hurt that time?"

Chief turned his head so he could see Goniff's face. "Yeah?"

The little burglar looked up and met his gaze as it started to rain in earnest. "Don't suppose you dreamed up how all a this is gonna turn out, eh?"

He shook the water out of his eyes and smiled a little. "Nope."

Goniff gave a tired shrug and smiled back. "Too bad."

"I don't know." Chief said as he hobbled along. "That dream didn't turn out too good, remember?"

"Yeah, well, but it made it so's you'd know what to look out for though. Didn't it?"

Chief stopped in the road to catch his breath. They'd been on the move a long time and he was beginning to wear out. It showed in the set of his shoulders and in the tone of his voice. "Don't take no dream to figure what to look out for, Goniff." German soldiers, he thought grimly…. They'd have a hard time getting off the road and into cover if a column came along. And sympathizers… Not knowing the language they'd probably never be able to identify people who would turn them over to curry favor with the occupying forces.

"Well," Goniff said as he plastered a grin on his face he hoped would cheer his teammate. "Somethin'll turn up. You'll see. Why we had us enough bad luck to deserve some a the good stuff. I bet we'll….."

"Shhh!" Chief cocked his head and listened and then started them staggering off to the side of the road, but before they could get there even Goniff could hear a car engine. It was coming fast. Too fast for him to get off the road and out of sight.

Chief tried to shove Goniff off towards the bushes but the English pick pocket wouldn't have any of it. The little cat burglar slipped under his right arm and urged them, slipping along in the mud, towards the verge.

The staff car roared around the bend in the road that had hidden it from their view. They just barely managed to get off onto the grass along the side when it fishtailed and sent a spray of mud over them. They could hear the occupants laughing as the vehicle sped on its way.

The two men stood there and stared down the road until the car disappeared into the distance and rain.

Goniff waited a moment for his heart to stop beating so hard, and the cramp in his hand where he'd clenched the butt of his pistol to ease, before he declared, "Could a been worse."

Chief nodded his agreement. "Yeah." He wiped the mud off his face with the back of his good hand. "They could a shot us."

Goniff gave a snort of laughter and rolled his eyes. "C'mon, mate. Let's go find someplace outta the wet." But Chief stayed where he was and cocked his head to the side to listen. "Aw, Blimey! Not again?"

The younger man shook his head. "Not a car… something's walking towards us though."

Goniff turned and stared up the road towards the bend that had hidden the staff car from them. He was concentrating so hard on listening, and watching for a column of marching German soldiers, that he jumped and let out a yelp when Chief reached up and slipped his fingers over the top of his head, and turned it so he was looking back down the road the way they'd come.

A lone figure trudging towards them was just visible through the steady gray rain.


	7. Chapter 7

"What d' we do?" Goniff leaned in and whispered.

"Already seen us. Might as well just stay here."

They stood and watched as the person came closer, and when she came abreast of them, Goniff grinned his fool's grin at her, and pulled at the wet hair that straggled over his forehead. Chief studied her as she avoided looking at them, clutched her basket to her, and hurried past. A few feet up the road she slipped in the mud, and the basket fell from her hands and spilled its meager contents around her feet.

They both immediately started forward to help, but because he wasn't hampered by a crudely made crutch it was Goniff who reached her first. He laughed and grinned, and dropped to his knees in a puddle, splashed about a bit, and then started to recover the few vegetables bobbing around him and return them to her basket. She retrieved the two parcels wrapped in oiled paper that had the good fortune to land on a hump between the puddles. Hunching over them, and turning her back to the rain, she carefully peeled the wrapping back to check them for damage before she stashed them in the inside pockets of her worn coat. By then Goniff had her basket refilled and was holding it up to her. With a quick glance at the two men she snatched the basket from his fingers and hurried on her way, quickly disappearing around the bend in the road. Goniff just sat in his puddle and watched her go.

Chief reached down to help him to his feet but put up a hand to stop his complaining before it got started. Goniff grumbled quietly to himself as he tried to press the water out of his pants and wring it out of the tail of his jacket. He didn't hear the splashing of the woman's halting steps has she made her way back to them. Chief did… but he had his back to her, so he jumped, and turned at her touch, pretending to be startled.

Chief's abrupt movement caused her to take a step back and she almost started away again. Half turned from them she tipped her face up into the rain and closed her eyes for a moment before turning back to favor them with a sad smile. She studied them from head to foot, taking in the stick Chief was leaning on, and the cobbled together brace wrapped around his injured hand. And she laughed at a bit of foolishness Goniff was engaging in. She turned to Chief and said a few words to him. He tapped his lips and his ear, and shook his head as he'd done for the priest. She got the idea, just like he had. She studied them for a moment longer before she nodded, as if to herself, and gestured for them to follow her, holding the basket up as an enticement to get Goniff started. The two men shared a quick look, and at Chief's barely perceptible shrug of a shoulder, after Goniff's stomach let out a more than perceptible growl, they started off after the woman.

g

They decided to follow her. They really didn't have much choice. The weather was terrible. There was no place to take shelter. They hadn't eaten. And the way she was lifting the basket and beckoning them to follow her there was at least the chance that she would give them a share of the food she had. They knew it wouldn't be much. But maybe it would be heated on her stove. Maybe they could get warm… Maybe it would be dry. It would have been different if Chief hadn't been injured but… they decided to follow her.

As they followed along Goniff tried to carry her basket for her, but she was too afraid to give it up. He figured she'd probably had her things taken in the past. So he divided his time between helping Chief and dashing over to the side of the road to pull up a wilted flower, or a long stem of grass, to present to her… always with a bow and a flourish. Eventually he made her smile and laugh a little. And that got her started talking.

Of course they didn't understand most of what she was saying, but Chief could pick out some of it, and even Goniff knew a word here and there. She seemed to be telling them how hard life had been for her, and how much she wanted the war to be over. She used the words for family, and father, and brother…and spat out the word for German.

As they walked along she seemed to get more and more nervous. And her words were changing. She was using the word Chief thought meant husband now, but he couldn't be sure, and when she used it her voice sounded almost like it did when she used the French word for German. Chief figured she might be afraid of him, of her husband… But that happened. Husbands weren't always good to wives.

They had moved off the road, and they were following a path that led into a row of spindly trees. They could see the outline of a house and some out buildings through them. The woman would hurry forward a bit, and then, after peering through the branches, she'd come back to them. If Goniff tried to laugh, or clap, or do anything he'd been doing up on the road to make her smile, he'd get a 'shush!' and she'd put her fingers to her lips to quiet him.

When they came to the edge of the trees she stepped carefully into the yard and walked halfway towards a small desolate barn. She waited there a moment with her head cocked while she intently studied the drab house. Eventually she turned and signaled them to come to her, motioning them to hurry along as much as they could. She held the door to the barn open until they reached her and then she giggled nervously as she ushered them inside.

Closing the door behind them, she started around the enclosure, and seemed to be pointing out its features. Here were the stalls that no longer held horses, and there, the milking stanchion that hadn't seen a cow in over a year. The chicken boxes were over in the corner, but the Germans had come and taken all the chickens. And there was a walled off area that used to hold the sacks of grain… The sacks were empty now, and some of them had holes chewed in them from the mice that populated the barn. But the walls didn't have too many cracks in them, and there were only one or two holes in the roof. There was still some old straw in the corner that hardly had any mold… There was a bucket on a nail; she'd get them some water.

Lifting the pail off its hook she got within two steps of the door before she turned to study them again. Her eyes glittered with unshed tears, and she was talking about family again, and then her conversation shifted to her husband. She started inserting 'sorry' every few words, and before they could understand, and before they could get there, she'd backed out the door, slammed it, and dropped the bar, locking them in.

The two men quickly took stock of their lockup. There might not be anything inside but the walls were sturdy and there weren't any windows. There was no way out but that barred door.

g

"Cry!" the group's scout whispered.

"What?" the pick pocket hissed back.

"Cry!…you gotta get her back here!" Chief depended on the look he'd seen in the woman's eyes. He depended on her pity bringing her back to unlock the door to their little prison.

Goniff let out a scream, ran across the packed earth and pounded on the door. Then he backed into the corner of the small barn and slid down the wall. Clutching his knees he started to rock and cry loudly. At first it was an act but it didn't take long to turn real. He cried for the others, for Casino and Actor and the Warden, lost in the fire at that building. He cried for the bodies he'd seen on the road as they tried to make their way to a bit of safety, and all the houses that had been blasted to bits by the fighting. He cried for the hungry little kids that hid from them in the woods. He cried for that priest who'd been the only one left to dig graves in the churchyard when people in his parish died. He cried for the little dog that wouldn't leave the doorstep of that ruined farm. He cried for him and Chiefy too, for them not getting to live to make a clean start and for his lost chance at getting back to his Mum in New York.

Chief clutched his crutch and limped over and dropped down next to the little Brit, and slipped an arm around his shoulders. He matched his movement and silently rocked back and forth with him. He concentrated on the door, willing the woman to return, as the fabric of his shirt went wet with the other man's tears. His heart stopped when he saw a shadow dim the light coming in around the door. He kept Goniff rocking back and forth; patting the head the other man had ground into his shoulder. Holding his breath, he watched the door as it slowly swung into the barn, watched the woman as she made her way towards them…

Goniff had given himself up to the pretended grief, and the touch on his shoulder startled him. He gave a yelp and pulled back. At the same time Chief pushed away from him and grabbed hold of the woman with his good hand. He pulled, and rolled, and landed her on her back in the straw, leaving them a clear shot at the door. Goniff grabbed his arm and they bolted. When they made it outside Goniff was the one that dropped the bar on the barn door and locked her inside.

They made it across the yard, and flattened themselves in the deep shade of the side wall of the house. There was a shout from inside, and the thudding of feet in response to the screeching that was coming from the barn. The door was flung back with a crash, and a man about Actor's size ran for the shed.

Goniff darted forward, before he could even think about it. Raising a stiffened hand, he brought the side of it down on the back of the man's bull neck. When the enraged husband fell stunned at his feet he turned a triumphant grin on Chief, who had been left leaning in the shadows. "I did it!" he crowed. "I finally did it!"

Chief limped carefully out into the sunlight and came to Goniff's side. He prodded the form at their feet with the axe handle he'd found leaning against the house and got no response. "You sure did," he gave Goniff a smile. "Now let's get out a here."

"Hey! Nuthin' doin'!" Goniff protested. "She promised us a meal, didn' she?" He headed off to the house and mounted the steps. "An I'm collectin'!"

"uh, Goniff?" When Goniff turned to see what he wanted, Chief directed his attention to the man in the dust with a casually pointed finger. He was starting to groan, and had already planted a meaty hand in the dirt, and was making his first attempt at getting up.

"Blimey!" Goniff sprinted the short distance to Chief's side and slipped under his right arm, being careful of the injured hand. "Let's scarper!"


	8. Chapter 8

g

It wasn't much; just another lean-to built into the side of a hill. Goniff left Chief in the trees, well away from it, as he checked the little building out. The rain had been falling steadily; almost from the time they'd made their break from that barn the evening before, so there was no reason to check for tracks. There was only one window…well, opening, the glass was long gone...to peep through. He was thorough about checking the inside though. In this weather someone using the place as a hide out would be hard put to conceal the fact from even his limited tracking skills.

Goniff made his way back through the underbrush coming up on the position where he'd left Chief … there was no one there. He looked around, thinking he must have taken a wrong turn somewhere, but just as he started off to search through the bushes there was a rustling off to his left. Chief put his arms down and limped away from the tree trunk he'd been leaning against, and Goniff let the pistol drop back into the bottom of his pocket and went to him.

"Like to learn to hide in plain sight like that sometime, if you've a mind to teach me, mate."

"Just have to take a shape the fella lookin' for you is expecting to see anyway, Goniff…" He looked down at himself and pulled at the muddy jacket that clung to him. "Helps if you already look a lot like tree bark." He let Goniff slip under his arm and help him towards the shack. "Anything inside?"

The little man shook his head. "Lots a dark… Not much else we can use."

"Well," the Indian squinted up into the stormy night sky. "At least we'll be out a the rain."

Goniff gave a snort and reached out and pulled the door open and rolled them through into the interior. Rain pattered down through several holes overhead. "Here," he said, heading them off into a corner. "There's a bit of dry over here."

They settled into the corner together to share a bit of body heat. There was a fireplace on the wall opposite the door, but one of the larger holes was also right over the hearth. The water was puddling, and running into the firebox along the voids between the stones where the grout had been washed out. Even if there'd been a dry place to build a fire, and something to start it with, there wasn't anything left inside to burn. The furniture was gone. Most of the interior lining of the walls and ceiling had been torn out. Even sections of the floor were missing.

Goniff peered through the gloom at their surroundings. "Cheery little place, isn't it?"

As tired and cold as he was Chief just rested his head against the wall and laughed.

Goniff laughed along. It felt good to let go of some of the tension they'd been carrying along with them since everything started going wrong back at that factory… When the laughter faded away a few moments later he turned on his young teammate. "What'd we do now?"

They'd been too long on the road. When they took off to do a job they all knew the timetables…. How long they had to make it back to a pick up point to get out. They knew secondary pick up points too. How long the resistance would be checking those spots just in case something went wrong and they were late. Time had run out on all of those places, and all those chances while they'd been on the road. No one would be looking for them now.

"I don't wanna go back," Chief said with conviction.

"Prison?" Goniff sat up straighter and turned to face the group's scout. "Me neither!"

Chief shook his head. It was more than that. 'If we find a way to get back to England they'll just dump us back in the joint." He thought a moment. "I don't wanna stop fighting."

Goniff slumped back against the wall. It would be safer back in prison. They'd kept their end of the deal they made with the Army, and they had every right to the paroles they'd been promised. They had every right to a soft spot in a state prison somewhere while they waited out the war, and the six months after too…. But they wouldn't be together. And the Warden was gone. No one was going to fight the Army for their rights. And, even though it surprised him… he didn't want to give up on the fighting either. What they did made a difference. The Warden said so… And if they couldn't do it for the Army…

Goniff turned and rested a shoulder on the wall so he could continue to look at the younger man. "You think we could hook up with those underground guys. Even without the Warden t' make introductions?"

Chief sent a shoulder up and then let it drop. "We know the kind a places those guys use. I figure we could probably find 'em." He shifted so he could face the little cockney. "Have to take it easy though." He didn't need to mention that trying to make contact would probably get them killed, they both knew that.

"Well… we got some time…" when his stomach let out a loud grumble he grinned and patted his belly. "Before I starve t' death, I mean."

An answering smile glowed in the dim light. "Shouldn't be too far from a town now."

"And this rain can't last forever."

"Prob'ly something we could use for food, right outside the door."

"In a couple a days you'r leg'll be right as rain."

"And we can be on our way…"

Goniff settled back into the corner, but he didn't take his eyes off his partner. "You think we'll really find 'em?"

Chief shook his head. "Who knows. Maybe."

They were drenched. They were chilled to the bone. They hadn't had much to eat for two or three days now. Chief was hurt. And they were both exhausted…. "Sounds better 'n tryin' to get back t' England." Goniff started to clamber back up onto his feet to watch out through the ruined window, but Chief held him back.

"Don't bother," the scout told him, as the wind outside rose to a steady howl. "Nobody's crazy enough to be out in this weather."

Goniff settled down and slid close again so they could share what little body heat they had. "You go on and get some sleep, mate. I'll take first watch."

Chief was asleep almost instantly. Goniff strained to see out into the dark through the open window. Then he turned and watched out a hole that had been left in the wall. He looked up through the broken roof for a few minutes before he switched back to the window when his eyes started to lose focus. The little man listened to the regular lulling sound of rain as it hit the boards over their heads and then streamed in to rhythmically patter down around them. He struggled valiantly but lost his battle eventually and fell into exhausted sleep.

Neither one of them heard the almost imperceptible irregular splashing of someone working their way up to the shack. The rain and wind covered the slightly hollow sound of a foot on the boards outside the door. Exhaustion stopped them from hearing the hinge groan when the door opened slowly into the hovel.

They instinctively started awake at the same instant to a dark shape looming over them. Chief's blade was down in the boot of the injured leg, there was no way he could get to it. Goniff's struggle to get his hand into his wet pocket to retrieve the pistol came to an abrupt halt when the rifle barrel they'd awakened to was pointed directly at their faces.

After a tense moment that barrel dropped down and the man wielding it ask, 'You guys like it out here on your own?" Garrison glanced around their rude accommodations and smiled down at them. "Or would you rather come home with me?"


End file.
